Matt's Cigs
by dramaq
Summary: Kira is dead and Matt and Mello share a shabby apartment. Now... why did Mello steal Matt's cigarets? One-shot fluff! MXM


"Hey, Mello? Where are my cigarets?"

"How should I know?" Mello yelled. I had a feeling he knew that the volume of his reply wasn't necessary, but felt like shouting anyway. I sighed. Typical Mello. Our shabby apartment was so small you could practically cook dinner while on the toilet! Sadly, I'm not exaggerating. There's this hole in the wall by the toilet, and if you reach through, you can actually touch the stove. I tried it once, but Mello had chosen then of all times to use the stove. We never use the stove! So due to Mello's random craving for melted chocolate, I got a burn that I, at the time, thought may even rival Mello's. Of course, if you ask him, he'd say it was just due to my own stupidity.

I walked the short distance to our "living room," which really just consists of a couch we found on the street and a TV that's older than we are. As usual, Mello was sprawled out on the beat up couch dramatically ripping chunks out of a bar of chocolate.

"Mello, I know you took my cigarets." I glared at him.

He shrugged, "Whether I took 'em or you lost 'em it doesn't really matter. Your not getting them back."

Ugh, stupid stubborn chocoholic. "You can't just hold them hostage! They're _mine_."

"Actually, I can. I'm pretty good at taking hostages," he smirked.

I collapsed on the couch next to him. There was no way I could win when Mello was acting like this. It wouldn't matter how reasonable my arguments were, he'd retort with stupid comebacks and act like he'd won. "Will you at least tell me _why_ you stole them?"

Mello thought for a moment before snapping, "Money."

_Money?_ I knew he was lying. "Come on Mels! You waste money left and right! I bet that chocolate bar cost more than a pack of cigs! And what about the Toaster Replacement Fund? If you want to cut back on spending, stop smashing the toaster whenever you get angry! And getting a job would-"

"MATT!" Well, crap. It looked like I really upset him. He was clenching his fists with such force that his knuckles turned white. And he had his 'mafia face' on. Through his bangs you could see his piercing blue eyes, glaring viscously with the iciness of a man who had killed. This face had terrified hardened criminals decades older than us, but when I saw it and noticed the half eaten chocolate bar that was discarded on the floor, I felt only sadness and concern.

"Mello, I'm sorry but-"

"Just shut up, Matt!"

He turned to stare down the wall, clearly indicating that he was through speaking with me. His evasiveness was starting to irritate me.

"You know I'm just gonna go buy another pack anyway, what's the point?"

"DON'T" He snapped.

"What, is it too expensive?" I mocked. "Just tell me why I should quit. That's what your trying to do, right? You want me to quit."

Mello remained perfectly still, but the neglected chocolate indicated he was still upset. Why did he want me to quit so much? "Mello, look at me. C'mon!"

I carefully wrapped my arms around him, and when he didn't complain I leaned into him, curling around his stiff form. "Mels," I purred. "Why do you want me to quit?" The ex-mafia boss cringed as his cheeks lit up baby pink. He tried to keep up a tough demeanor, but the blush made him look silly... and devilishly cute. "Mello," I whispered in his ear.

He buried his face in my hair and mumbled, "Ijusdonydycncrstk"

"What?"

"I just don't want you to die from those damn cancer sticks, okay?" Mello ripped me off of him and stormed from the room in an embarrassed fury. And... CRASH... there goes the toaster. I sighed. It wasn't the toaster's fault that Mello was so emotionally constipated.

I retrieved Mello's trademark chocolate bar and traced the rips in the foil with my finger. I wasn't incredibly shocked that Mello cared for my life... after all, we had been in a relationship since he was fourteen and I was thirteen. However, he wasn't the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve. The only time I can remember him telling me he loved me when he wasn't high or we weren't in bed was two years ago, when I came to help him with the Kira case. It's odd. Mello never seemed worried about the possibility of my death before, even when it was looming all around us, waiting to take us. If it weren't for my smooth talking, I _would_ have been gunned down once. It's a miracle we survived. Even after Kira died, the police were still after us. So why was Mello afraid of _cancer_ taking me?

I wandered into our bedroom. He was lying face down on our queen sized mattress- his favorite way to sulk. I decided to join him, lying on my stomach to his right. "Mello?" He turned his head slightly to the right so his right eye peeped out from the pillow. Looks like I would be doing the talking. "I'm sorry I upset you, and that you don't like my smoking, Mels. But your being unreasonable," I tried to say gently. Mello winced at the insult to his intelligence. "The probability of me dying from Lung Cancer is about the same as the likelihood that _you'll_ get diabetes." I smiled softly.

"Diabetes won't kill. And I can eat whatever the hell I want," Mello mumbled unconvincingly.

"Still, it's more likely some random guy will barge in and shoot us. We have a lot of enemies Mels..."

Mello turned his whole head to face me. "If that happens, it happens. There's a thousand ways for us to die, Matt, I know that, but its all out of our control. I can handle the prospect of other people killing us, Matt. Just don't kill yourself."

He reached out and pulled me close. In his tight embrace I was overcome by the scent of leather, and dark chocolate, and... Mello. I sighed. Damn. How could I say no to him now? Oh well. If it will make him feel more secure, I'll give up smoking for him. After all, I'd do anything for my little blonde haired firecracker, I'd give my life... or even save it. I tilted my head up and pecked him on the cheek. "I'll do it. I'll quit."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling "Good. I'm hungry. I want toast."

I laughed. He was trying so hard to feign indifference he had forgotten his most recent rampage. I hopped out of bed and entwined my fingers with his. "Good thing we have the Toaster Replacement Fund."


End file.
